Lucifer's Children

by Brett Williams

  An impressed Pammy planted her lips on Josh’s cheek. Amanda wondered if she was trying to get Josh sloshed. At this point Amanda wouldn’t be surprised. She was surprised, though, to realize she had nearly drank her entire drink.

  “I’ll get you a refill,” Brad said.

  “Sure.” She finished the dregs and a moment later he handed her a full cup, and both Pammy and Josh had another beer as well. Brad had drank only about a third, which suited Amanda just fine.

  As the night continued they remained on the porch and discussed, as a group, music (the guys liked rock, the girls enjoyed pop), school (Pammy wished Monarch Prep wasn’t an all-girl school and the guys thought Amanda and Pammy should attend their high school), food (everyone agreed pizza was the greatest, with burgers and ice cream a close second), and how good beer was (the effect, not the taste, except for the guys, who enjoyed both). They met a lot of the guys’ classmates. Amanda noticed a few familiar faces from Monarch Prep (not including Matt). Pammy told the guys that she would introduce them to her classmates, if they weren’t all bitches (present company excluded).

  “Thank you for not including me,” Amanda said, feeling buzzed and holding an empty cup.

  “Yeah, not sure why you’re so different,” Pammy said, “but you’re the only girl I know who isn’t a grade-A bitch.”

  “You aren’t either,” Amanda said.

  “Oh, no. I’m a serious bitch.”

  “Uh-oh,” Josh joked.

  “You hush.”

  “Okay,” Josh slurred, “but only ‘cause I need to drain my lizard.”

  “Whip it out,” Pammy said, “squirt off the porch. Let’s see what ya got.”

  “Oh gosh,” Amanda said, “please don’t do that.”

  Brad said, “In his state he might splash someone.”

  “Good point,” Pammy said. “There’s a bathroom upstairs. Go.”

  Josh stumbled away through the front door. He had been gone for a few minutes when Amanda realized she wanted more beer. She would probably cut herself off after three, but her alcoholic buzz hadn’t quite hit a high enough level.

  “I think I want another beer,” she announced.

  “Sure you don’t wanna try the bong?” Pammy teased.

  “No way. How about you, Brad? Not the bong, another beer?”

  “Sure. You ladies help yourselves. Nature is calling me now.”

  Pammy pointed into the yard, “You haven’t lost your aim.”

  “No,” Amanda said, “you should probably check on Josh. He could have gotten lost.”

  “Or fallen in.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Brad said.

  A jock was eyeing Amanda as his buddy refilled her cup.

  “You’re a cheerleader, am I right?” he said.

  “Nope. Not me.”

  “You should be.”

  Amanda smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’d like to watch you do the splits.”

  “Yeah,” his buddy said, staring at her bosom and handing her a full cup, “I’d like to see you jumping around, skirt flying up and down.”

  “Hell yeah, bro.” The jocks bumped fists.

  “You should be so lucky,” Pammy said. To Amanda: “Let’s go inside.”

  “Gladly.”

  They were passing through the front door when, above the loud music, they heard catcalls, applause, and all-round enthusiastic shouting and whistling.

  “What’s going on?” Amanda said.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  A crowd had formed in front of the sound system. It was hard to tell what was taking place. Amanda, intent on keeping up with Pammy, worked her way through the crowd. Pammy maneuvered her way to peer over the shoulders of two guys on the front row. Amanda stood behind her and looked over the head of her shorter friend.

  There she could see a girl about her age, perhaps a year older, gyrating her body, moving like a stripper and teasing as if she might actually undress. Her mane of flame-red hair whipped around in the suffocating, hops-scented atmosphere.

  “Take it off. Take it off. Take it off …” the crowd urged.

  Amanda could barely believe her eyes as she watched the skintight, heavily-modified T-shirt go up and over the head of the woman. Her pale, ripe melons hopped in jubilation at their freedom. When she spun around for the crowd to see, the tattoos covering her body could not be denied. Angel wings spanned the entirety of her back. These wings, however, did not sport feathers but instead appeared leathery—the wings of a fallen angel.

  Between the wings, down near the ass cleavage spilling out of her booty shorts an

  inked crucifixion of Christ

  taunted spectators.

  And something else

  sprouting out of her

  directly above the

  cleavage …

  Pammy turned around grinning. She said, “Get a load of this chick.”

  Yeah. Crazy. Amanda took a hit of beer. She wanted to turn away, but in her fuzzy state she continued to stare like an onlooker at a crime scene. She watched the woman peel out of her shorts and toss them at someone just out of eyeshot.

  “Oh, my god,” Amanda said as Matt strode into view, a smirk on his face.

  She cartwheeled at him and he caught her by the ankles, upside-down. The tattoo sprouting from her backside also became apparent. A devilishly barbed tail coiled around the thigh of her left leg, ending in a point at her calf. Tattooed Jesus stared in pain at Amanda as Matt began to lick between the woman’s legs.

  “Lick it. Lick it. Lick it,” the crowd chanted. Soon, though, someone suggested she “suck it” and the chant changed.

  Matt let loose of the woman’s ankles and the redhead smoothly transitioned to a kneeling position before him. Matt provoked the crowd with a series of fist pumps as the uninhibited female before him unzipped his jeans and pulled out his semi-erect penis.

  “Suck it! Suck it! Suck it!”

  Suck it, she did.

  Not just any male would proudly present his package before such a crowd, Amanda thought. But Matt had nothing to be ashamed of. However, the inked female accommodated the growing erection in a disgusting feat of expertise that seemed like some sort of illusion. And still she managed to flick the tip of her tongue across his scrotum.

  “Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!”

  The redheaded devil seemed thrilled at the prospect. Amanda could hardly believe how slutty this chick was. Not to mention marking up her body in such a way. The tattooed teen let the now rock-hard erection slip from her lips and sprawled out on a nearby sofa.

  The entire crowd pushed closer for a better view. Matt shed his clothes in record speed, but not nearly fast enough for the anxious crowd. The female fingered her glistening folds while she waited patiently for him. She was teasing her clit when he finally plunged in his penis to a collective sigh of the crowd.

  “Fuck that slit,” the redhead urged. “Fuck that slit,” she repeated, prompting a chant by issuing a “raise the roof” hand gesture.

  “Fuck that slit! Fuck that slit! Fuck that slit!”

  And then the female scanned the crowd, found what she wanted, and summoned forth another suitor with a curl of her finger.

  This guy, one of the jocks, went hither, and produced his cock for the slut’s oral fixation. One of his buddies approached her from the opposite side, one knee on the sofa, Matt still thrusting between her legs.

  Amanda guzzled beer, unsure if she could handle any more. The encounter, surreal and intriguing initially, was quickly getting out of hand.

  The redhead was groping the third guy’s crotch; he drunkenly pulled off his baggy jersey and started unfastening his jeans.

  Enough is enough, Amanda though. She could feel herself going wet between the legs. She didn’t want to watch this. Especially with Matt sticking it to the slut.

  Someone touched Amanda’s arm, causing her to jump.

  “There you are,” Brad said. “What’s going on?” His eyes cut to the
action. “Oh. Wow.”

  Amanda glanced back to see what he saw. The jocks were urging Matt to finish, or at least switch positions with them. Matt pulled out to allow a less endowed football player to wet his wick. The woman sucked the other while Matt stroked himself with one hand and kneaded one of her breasts with the other.

  “Josh, check this out,” Brad said, moving to the side to allow his friend a better view.

  Amanda gestured and said, “Pammy’s over there.”

  “Cool.”

  “Are you okay?” Brad asked Amanda.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Wow. She’s really into it.”

  “Yeah.” Amanda avoided the scene, drank beer, gazed upon her date, who raptly watched the live sex show unfolding before him. She listened as the crowd yelled “fuck her in the ass,” “jizz on her tits,” and “eat it, bitch.”

  Amanda had experienced enough. The growing crowd eased her closer to Brad. When he placed an arm around her shoulders and asked if she wanted to go outside, Amanda declined, and rested her head on his shoulder. “You watch,” she said, though she doubted he could hear. “It’s okay so long as I’m with you.”

  Minutes passed and the chanting changed. Amanda got the impression that at least one more guy had joined in the action. She didn’t realize that she had shut her eyes until she sensed a shift in the crowd.

  Pammy, standing before her, said, “We’ll be back in a while.” She winked at Amanda. “Don’t leave without us.”

  A trailing, drunken Josh shuffled past Amanda, his hand locked with Pammy’s. They disappeared into the crowd before reappearing on the staircase, presumably on their way to locate a vacant bedroom.

  “Let’s get some fresh air,” Brad said.

  “Okay.”

  They went out onto the porch, where a relatively quiet, cool night awaited.

  “I think Pammy and Josh are getting along pretty well, wouldn’t you say?” Brad said.

  “Apparently.”

  Brad paused before adding: “Not that you have to get a room to have a good time, of course.”

  Amanda looked into his beautiful blue eyes. “You don’t?”

  “No. I’m having a good time, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Very much so.”

  His hand squeezed hers. He leaned closer. His mouth lingered close to hers, and when her eyes slid shut his lips pressed her lips. The kiss truly made skyrockets shoot across her vision. She didn’t want the kiss to end but when it did and Brad asked, “What do you want?” Amanda said, “Promise me you won’t take advantage of me tonight, okay?”

  “Of course. But why would you ask me something like that?”

  “Because I’m afraid to lose control but I really want another drink.”

  “Get another drink, you’re safe here with me.”

  She drank another beer as they discussed unimportant but cosmically significant things that she probably wouldn’t remember the following day. She savored the safety of Brad’s arms as she awaited her friend’s return.

  Pammy appeared, glowing, Josh with a grin on his face. Brad reminded them that they should leave, if they wanted to meet Amanda’s curfew, which they met with plenty of time. Brad walked her to the front door of the Henning house and left her with a toe-curling kiss she would dream about until morning.

  She awoke to sodden panties plastered between her legs.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Amanda sat cross-legged on her bed, trying to read a book. The story refused to register in her mind because much more important things occupied it at the moment. Namely Brad. At least at school her studies kept her preoccupied, as did Sugar Plum Grill—for the most part. After school everything revolved around chores, dinner, and Amy, who, with her new slutty attire, didn’t allow Amanda much time to daydream about Brad, his yummy lips, or his strong arms wrapped around her.

  Oh, how she missed him so.

  Brad had stopped by work yesterday for ice cream and Amanda had taken an early break to sit with him, much to the chagrin of Jill. Brad had even invited Amanda to see a movie on Saturday night.

  But now the thought of Brad and their double-date last Saturday swam through Amanda’s consciousness. She thought about how Pammy had made love to Josh upstairs at the party. In some stranger’s bedroom, of all places. And that redhead downstairs? Whoa. The scene defied comprehension. Did Matt know that girl? It seemed that way. Not that she cared. And she didn’t care what that slutty girl did.

  Pammy’s actions, on the other hand, did concern Amanda. After all, her best friend had opened herself up to Josh, someone she had met only hours earlier.

  Maybe things were different once you lost your virginity. Pammy had not only had sex but had gotten pregnant. Hormones were running rampant in her. Everyone knew that pregnancy occasionally brought out strange behavior in women, right? The beer Pammy had drank couldn’t have helped matters, along with the hard-core sex taking place right in front of her.

  Guys talked, and undoubtedly Josh would tell Brad all the juicy details. What if Brad got ideas? Since Pammy put out, and Pammy and Amanda were friends … Would Amanda be expected to give in for Brad?

  No way.

  But what if he pressured her?

  Jill might be right. Brad could go elsewhere.

  Amanda dropped her hardcover book and flopped back onto the bed and muttered, “You’ll just have to wait, Brad, because I’m not ready.”

  Not only wasn’t Amanda ready, she didn’t feel as if she would be ready anytime soon. Although she couldn’t shake the thought of his sweet lips kissing her all over her body.

  Since she was unable to read, Amanda decided to check her messages on the computer. Perhaps she should register a new email address to give to Brad so he could email her sometime. She wished she had her own cell phone but they were too expensive, and she needed to save her pennies.

  So she went to the computer room, where she found Amy playing an online game.

  “Want to play ZoomPetals?” Amy asked. “You can play a two-player game. It’s hecka fun.”

  “How do you play?”

  “See my girl zooming around? She has to tend to my flower garden. The goal is to have the largest, prettiest flower garden. The only thing is, weeds keep popping up, the roses have thorns, which will getcha, there are snakes, and you can run out of water.”

  “I see.”

  “And you have to beat the clock. See? There in the corner.”

  “Yes, I see.” Amanda also noticed the actual clock—Amy’s bedtime was drawing near. “You play, I’ll watch.”

  Amy shrugged. “Okay.”

  Amanda pulled up a chair to watch Amy weed her growing flower garden, mow the surrounding grass, and eventually unlock the ability to plant orchids. She had just planted another rose bush when Mr. Henning appeared in the doorway.

  “Wrap it up, Amy. Time for bed.”

  “Ah, Dad, I just leveled up.”

  “Good job, honey, but leveling up doesn’t change your bedtime.”

  “Please, just let me finish this level. I’ve never made it this far. Okay?”

  “Make it quick.”

  Mr. Henning stepped into the room and placed his hands on Amy’s shoulders and started to massage them. He said, “How is school and work going, Amanda?”

  “Oh, everything is fine. I just finished my homework not long ago. I got an A on a math test today.”

  Amy interrupted, “See my roses grow, Daddy?”

  “Yes, honey. Good going.”

  He kissed the top of his daughter’s head. Then his unwanted hands moved to Amanda’s shoulders and began to knead deep.

  “Good job on your math test.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So … how was the party?”

  Somehow the topic had been overlooked for the past few days, possibly due to Tonya’s Sunday afternoon play-date with Amy, Amanda’s work schedule, and Mrs. Henning’s elaborate story at dinner, probably conceived to deceive her hu
sband about the male callers who had visited her earlier in the day. It all made Amanda sick, but especially his hands touching her shoulders. The thin cotton of her tee did nothing to insulate her from the wretched warmth of his hands.

  “The party was okay,” she answered.

  “Just okay? Okay parties are lame.”

  His attempt at humor didn’t amuse her. She didn’t reply and a moment later she felt warm breath in her ear as he whispered, “Always be responsible when you drink.”

  The tickle in Amanda’s ear traveled down her spine as a chill. She couldn’t help but slide down in her chair in a failed attempt to avoid his touch.

  “Did you hear me?” Mr. Henning said.

  “Yes, sir. I’m very responsible.”

  “Yes, you are. As you should be. Big things await you when you turn eighteen, and you don’t want anything to jeopardize that, do you, Amanda?”

  “No, sir. Not at all.”

  Now quit touching me, stop breathing on me, she thought. Was that a hint of alcohol on his breath? Or aftershave?

  “Good girl.” His lips pressed the top of her head before his hands left her shoulders and returned to those of his daughter.

  “One more minute, honey.”

  “Seventy-two seconds, Daddy. See the game clock?”

  “Sixty-nine seconds, and then time for bed.”

  The clock ticked down as Amanda sat trapped, watching this grown man touching and, as the last ten seconds ticked by, teasing Amy by counting down the time in her ear, more aggressively as time ran out, until, as the level ended, Amy sat squirming.

  The pink top she wore, which was much too small for her, rode up and twisted, with only her budding breasts keeping the garment from riding higher. The way she doubled over at the waist in a ticklish fit made those breasts appear much more ripe than they actually were.

  “Stop, Daddy,” Amy pleaded.

  “Okay, okay. Shut down the computer—time for bed.”